


Funny Like a Funeral

by Lint



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:23:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lint/pseuds/Lint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when things were going so well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It's a strange talent to have.

 

Being the new kid.

 

Knowing when to talk. (Answer questions thoughtfully, and briefly, never ramble. Never reveal more about yourself than absolutely necessary.) Knowing how to dress. (Scout the town before school starts, different places have different styles, make it work but don't appear as if you're trying too hard.) Knowing how to be a good student. (Have the answers, but never raise your hand more than once. Never appear as if you're smarter than everyone. Use intelligence as an ice breaker, not a weapon.)

 

It's more a survival skill than talent, if he thinks about it a second longer than normal, his inner monologue always spinning more lines than necessary the day before a new school. A skill he's cultivated across more than a dozen institutions of learning in the last ten years. Military family. Moving around goes with the territory.

 

One that's coming full circle, to the place of his birth, but he has no memory of. Some wooded little town in Virginia, a mere twenty minutes away from one of the largest bases in the country.

 

He turns down the offer of a guide, having studied the school map on the wall, while waiting for his transfer papers to go through. Walking out of the office with class schedule in hand, he catches the sound of laughter and immediately thinks of butterflies, but when glancing around for the source finds nothing.

 

-

 

Matt Donovan, by all social stereotypes, should be a douche bag. Blonde haired, blue eyed, football player in a letterman's jacket is an eighties high school movie villain almost all of the time. It's refreshing Stefan finds, that his invitation after meeting in history class, to sit with his friends at lunch was one of sincerity rather than sticking it to the new kid.

 

His best friend Tyler, however, escapes no such preconceived notions. A withering glare is all that's offered at Matt's introduction, sizing up fresh meat with predator's eyes, Stefan half expects him to grunt a reply to his monosyllabic 'hey.'

 

Elena, Matt's girlfriend, does offer welcome. As does her sister, a mirror image only marred by the curl of her hair, sticking out her hand and introducing herself as Katherine. Tyler's glare only intensifies at the contact, and Stefan figures out pretty quick that the best friends share the same end of the dating pool.

 

Bonnie is next, and he offers a friendly nod to a bright smile, before idly picking at his food and waiting for the inevitable barrage of questions.

 

“So, where are you from?” Elena.

 

“Technically, I'm from here,” is his reply. “But my last stop was in San Diego.”

 

“California?” Katherine. “This podunk little town must feel like Mars after that.”

 

“It's not so bad.” (Neutral answer. Neither insulting possible town pride, nor dismissing general teen angst for their limited surroundings.)

 

“So your dad's a uniform?” Matt.

 

“Three star general.”

 

Bonnie whistles.

 

“My dad never made it past sargent,” she offers.

 

“Do you play ball?” Tyler finally chiming in.

 

One look at his sleeve and Stefan knows the only sport that counts as 'ball' to him is the kind where you get tackled to the ground.

 

“Until I blew out my shoulder last summer.” (A lie, but joining teams just means further attachment. And really, what's the point when he might not last a season?)

 

The questions keep coming, and Stefan answers them all with a self depreciating charm, which works at endearing him to a new group just as well as it always has.

 

-

 

The party is in full swing, bonfires and beer in the middle of the woods, as Stefan wanders the outskirts of all the gathered kids just looking for a good time. He holds a plastic cup in his hand, occasionally sipping it for show, his self imposed two drink limit a fact no one need be aware of.

 

He bumps into Matt by the keg, refill number two, and smiles genuinely at the “dude, where have you been?” greeting.

 

The group greets him with raised cups, shouting 'hey' in a dragged out unison. All except Tyler, that is, but Stefan doesn't expect any less. He and Bonnie clink glasses, as Katherine and Elena hook their arms together before downing the rest of their own drinks. Matt cheers the action, and Tyler follows, while Stefan chuckles to himself. No matter where he is, kids are pretty much the same, and that little fact is what makes his constant transitions so seamless.

 

Half an hour later, everyone is well on their way to being properly drunk, when Stefan catches that laughter again. Butterflies and bright summer days pop into his mind, and this time looking around he actually finds the source.

 

Honey blonde hair and a smile like sun, reflected by a burning barrel's fickle flame, is what he sees and before he knows it he's tapping Matt on the arm.

 

“So,” he starts, trying to come off casual, and nodding in her direction. “Who's that?”

 

Matt smirks at the question, as if he's learned something just by the asking of it, taking a purposeful drink of beer to keep him in suspense.

 

“That,” he replies on the swallow. “Is Caroline Forbes.”

 

“She's not involved in this little circle?”

 

“Occasionally,” Matt continues. “She and Katherine have this weird competitive frienemies thing going on. It's one of the off periods right now.”

 

“What's her story?”

 

“Sheriff's daughter. Or niece. You know, that's not really clear. She moved here a year ago. Does a lot of activities. Clubs, cheerleader, stuff that like that.”

 

Stefan watches her interact with the people that surround her, how she is clearly the center of attention, and loves every second of it. God, that smile. He could stare at it for days.

 

“Go for it,” Matt says with a nudge.

 

Stefan takes a drink for liquid courage, and does exactly that.

 

-

 

 

Caroline is every bit the beaming ray on sunshine his assumption conveyed, she not even missing a step in her circle when he wanders up and introduces himself, trying for James Dean cool even when his stomach flops from cheap beer and a pretty face.

 

“Stefan Salvatore I presume,” she replies off his single name introduction.

 

His brow lifts curiously.

 

“Small town,” she continues. “Word spreads pretty fast. You're a Gemini and your favorite color is blue.”

 

He can't help the smile that comes.

 

“Did you, uh, ask about me?”

 

Her eyes focus on him intently, so sudden and strong, a blush creeps into his cheeks and he attempts to deflect from this fact with a quick drink.

 

“I make it my business to know things,” she offers.

 

“Yeah, what kind of things?”

 

Those eyes, her lips, he's lost in the hypnotic gaze of the most beautiful girl he's ever seen. Sunshine and rainbows, with the underlying threat of thunder and lightning any moment, and he's locked in place waiting for it to unfold.

 

“Everything.”

 

One by one, her little court of people has wandered off, each knowing a moment when they see it and filing away accordingly. Stefan is thankful, his carefully plotted points of fitting in, are easily being erased by the presence of her. (Be aloof, but not distant. Be mysterious, but not cloying. Make yourself available, but never appear to be in need.)

 

He wants to know her. Right away, he wants to know everything about her. Hopes and dreams. Loves and desires. He wants the knowledge to be put to use, to give her everything and more. He takes another drink to quell the thoughts from his mind, each spinning far too fast for his liking, this not a movie nor fairytale. Love at first sight a myth, but a sudden overbearing curiosity, so very real.

 

“I hear you're fairly new here too,” he manages to say, letting his cup fall back next to his leg.

 

“I come and go,” she replies. “Something about this place always brings me back, you know? I guess it's home.”

 

Home. That he doesn't know. So many places lived in such a small about of years. He's had houses. Apartments. Barracks. None of those he'd ever call home. She steps closer to him and his breath catches, inwardly cringing as he hopes she didn't hear, but knows she did off the little grin it causes.

 

“Have you been down to the falls yet?” she asks.

 

“The falls?”

 

“Namesake of sheltered little burg. The moonlight hits the mist a certain way, and I guess people thought it was mystic a hundred years ago.”

 

“Can't say that I have.”

 

“Well, they are really cool at night,” she goes on, hand reaching for his. “And I could show you. If you want.”

 

She rarely gets told no. The thought is as random as it is prevalent, but no less true, and he's not about to be an exception to the rule.

 

-

 

The falls are a sight to behold.

 

His interest is fleeting however, the distraction of Caroline's arm looped through his, keeping him from truly appreciating such a natural wonder. Her proximity is making him dizzy, the slight scent of lilac, coupled with the thought that this is all moving awfully fast.

 

“So you've integrated yourself into a group of people pretty quick,” she remarks, breaking their momentary silence.

 

“I am well practiced,” he responds.

 

“How well?”

 

“This is my fifth high school,” he answers. “Twelfth school over all. So, you learn to make friends quick, or you end up a loner.”

 

She lays that gaze on him again, such intensity, all instinct clamors for him to cut and run.

 

“But you are a loner,” she offers.

 

“What?”

 

Her hand lifts to his cheek, a whisper sweet caress.

 

“You make friends quickly, but none of them really know you. What you see is what you get kind of thing, am I right?”

 

His mouth drops open. Part of him wants to be insulted as much as he wants to ask if she's psychic.

 

“You're never around long enough for someone to see past the surface, and you don't want to let them anyway, because it will make leaving that much more difficult.”

 

“Is this part of your business of knowing things?” he asks.

 

She looks away to the falls.

 

“I can relate,” she answers. “That's all.”

 

“Are you a military brat, too?”

 

She laughs softly.

 

“Hardly.”

 

She leans in closer.

 

“Word of advice Stefan?”

 

She's so close, it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to keep his eyes from falling shut, to let himself just breath her in.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“In such a romantic setting, with a girl who clearly wants you to kiss her, calling her a brat might not be the brightest idea.”

 

She closes the gap before he can reply, the defense that it's just a turn of phrase, dying on his tongue as hers slips past his lips. Her hands grip the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer with a strength he wouldn't have guessed her capable of.

 

Then, just as quickly as they'd begun, she breaks away gasping.

 

Excitement and euphoria flood his consciousness, so that he doesn't come crashing back to Earth the second the kiss ends, but when it happens his eyes open to discover he's left alone on the log where they sat.

 

(Just when things were going so well.)

 

-

 

He's at his locker, doing the after lunch textbook swap and talking to Matt and Elena, when Caroline approaches with a sheepish look. Matt immediately cuts off his sentence, gives Elena's hand a not so subtle tug, and departs with a playful lift of his eyebrows.

 

“Hi,” she says.

 

Stefan stuffs a book into his backpack.

 

“Hey,” he replies.

 

“I think I owe you an apology.”

 

“For what?” he wonders aloud. “If you think that's the first time I've been loved and left, then you'd be right.”

 

Her face pinches momentarily in confusion, before a smile overtakes the expression, and she laughs freely. The hairs on the back of Stefan's neck stand at attention, and he knows without a doubt, that he would do anything to keep her making that sound.

 

“I don't,” she begins with the laughter fades. “I mean, I don't usually...”

 

She sighs and puts a hand to her forehead.

 

“I don't usually end up making out with a guy half an hour after meeting him,” she finishes. “And I don't cut and run quite so easily either.”

 

“So what you're saying is,” Stefan fills in, leaning against his locker in a poor attempt of cool guy posturing. “I'm special.”

 

That laugh again, how it sends a shiver down his spine.

 

“What I'm saying,” she says, hand reaching out to play with a button on his shirt. “Is I like you. Because, duh. You remind me of someone I used to know, actually.”

 

That gets his attention.

 

“Old boyfriend?”

 

Her smile is illusive.

 

“Something like that. So yeah, totally hot awesome guy, that's you. But, maybe we should get to know each other a little better?”

 

His fingers clasps around her wrist.

 

“I have absolutely no problem with that.”

 

-

 

His first, and only, serious girlfriend was back in ninth grade when dad was stationed in Hawaii. He and Keala held hands, made out, and declared their undying love for three beautiful months. Then came another transfer order, and that as they say, was that. Stefan finds that though he's a little older, perhaps a tiny bit wiser, the holding hands and making out parts of dating are still his favorite.

 

Caroline reattaches herself into the group, despite whatever drama between she and Katherine still hangs in the air, easily finding a place with sparking personality and sunny disposition. For a solid month, he's the happiest he's ever been, with friends and a girlfriend. He can feel the walls he cultivates oh so carefully, begin to erode with each passing day. Though a voice in the back of his mind constantly reminds him that soon it will all end abruptly, as it always does, he quells it down by allowing himself to enjoy whatever happens.

 

The voice starts murmuring one morning, while he waits next to the flagpole in front of the school for Caroline to arrive, and she doesn't show. He tries not to make a big deal of it, but in the brief time he's known her, punctuality has been a factor. He sends a text and waits a minute, sends another when she doesn't respond, and calls her direct after five with no answer.

 

With the assumption that she must be sick, sleeping, and doesn't hear her phone he starts to head to class. Running into Bonnie in the hall, he asks if she's heard from Caroline, knowing they live just a few houses down from each other.

 

The look on his friend's face at the mention of Caroline's name gives him pause. How her eyes go wide, and she bites her bottom lip, quickly looking away.

 

“Bonnie,” he says, voice tinged with concern. “Did something happen?”

 

She turns back to him, now composed, but Stefan recognizes the moment he's about to be lied to. His dad does it all the time with anything he deems classified. (Which is basically everything to General Salvatore.)

 

“She's at home,” Bonnie replies.

 

“What happened?”

 

“She's fine,” Bonnie assures. “She's resting.”

 

“Bonnie,” he says again. “Tell me.”

 

“She's fine,” she repeats. “You don't have to worry.”

 

He moves past her, heading back to the door when her hand reaches out.

“You love her don't you?”

 

“I...”

 

It's too soon for that word, he thinks. Neither of them have said it yet. Have even thought to say it. But she has is affection. As much as he can possibly give to another person. He would do anything for her, walk through a desert or frozen tundra just to be with her, as dramatic as that all sounds. Maybe it is love after all.

 

“Be careful Stefan,” Bonnie warns. “There's things about Caroline I don't think you want to know.”

 

He doesn't know how to take that, and keeps on walking. Once outside he runs right into Tyler, who looks pissed. Stefan tries to sidestep him, but the other boy doesn't let him pass.

 

“Come on man,” Stefan sighs. “Not today.”

 

Tyler doesn't offer explanation, or space, just clenches his fists as if anything will set him off. Stefan sheds his backpack, waiting for whatever is going to happen. He never did like Tuesdays.

 

-

 

“Caroline?” he all but shouts, knocking on her front door. “Are you in there? Caroline?”

 

He knocks louder when there's no answer, putting a hand up to the glass on the door to peer inside, and exhales in relief at the sight of her slowly coming to answer. She twists the knob, and he carefully pushes his way inside, hands on her arms as he looks her up and down.

 

She's paler than usual, and by how long it took her to even get to the door, he would have just assumed the flu if Bonnie hadn't freaked him out earlier. Whatever it was she couldn't tell him, is clearly all bad.

 

“Stefan,” she says weakly. “I got your texts. Sorry I didn't reply, but I've been... resting.”

 

He embraces her carefully, lips pressing a kiss into her hair, and laughing with relief when she hugs him back.

 

“You're okay?” he questions into her shoulder.

 

“I will be,” she assures.

 

“What happened?”

 

She pulls back, only now noticing he's not entirely unscathed himself.

 

“What happened to you?”

 

He knows his left eye is swollen, as is one of his cheeks, there's a cut somewhere too that he hadn't been overtly concerned with.

 

“Katherine broke up with Tyler.”

 

Caroline's jaw drops.

 

“And he took it out on you?”

 

“I guess she's had a thing for me this whole time?”

 

Caroline doesn't look the least bit surprised.

 

“And apparently that's my fault.”

 

“He's an idiot,” Caroline mutters. “And she's a bitch. They deserve each other.”

 

Her hand moves to inspect the damage, fingers coming away with blood from the cut, and she turns from him far too quickly than her current state should allow.

 

“Caroline?”

 

“You need to go,” she warns.

 

“What? What are you-”

 

“Now!” she exclaims, voice heavy with a weight he's never heard.

 

“Whatever it is,” he offers, refusing to move. “You can tell me.”

 

She doesn't reply, only keeps her back to him. He takes a cautious step forward, then another when she doesn't move. Hand on her shoulder, he tries to twist her back to him, but she won't budge.

 

“Don't,” she whispers. “Don't look at me. I'm hideous.”

 

He almost laughs.

 

“That is about the most opposite word I would ever use to describe you.”

 

After he says it, she doesn't resist, letting him turn her back round so that they face each other. The black vein spiderweb spread across her eyes is shocking, as are the fangs that now grace her teeth, but he is not afraid and doesn't run screaming like she no doubt assumed he would.

 

“You could have told me,” he says softly.

 

“Yeah, that would have been a real conversation starter. Hey cute guy I like. I'm a murderer. A monster. But why don't we go steady?”

 

Stefan hand goes under her chin, leveling her eyes to his.

 

“You don't scare me.”

 

“I should.”

 

“You don't.”

 

“Stefan...”

 

There are things about himself he never shares, no matter how close he may get to someone, how much he may feel like he can trust them. Because he always leaves. Because no matter where he goes, he has to carry it with him, and can never be left to feel like it might come back to haunt him. (When you're the new kid, you say you have a father, he's in the military and you move around a lot. You never talk about your mother. Dead. Or your brother. Also dead. And you never, ever, bring up the fact that it almost happened to you too.)

 

“I know what you are,” he interrupts.

 

“Do you?”

 

“Believe it or not,” he continues. “You're not the first vampire I've met.”

 

She looks at him curiously, her face finally shifting back to the one he knows.

 

“On my fifteenth birthday,” Stefan says grimly. “My mother tried to kill me.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

They're in Caroline's room, cuddled up on her bed after Stefan helped her up the stairs, still weak from the mystery ailment she has yet to come clean about. Her head rests on his chest, as his fingers play idly with her hair, both silent for a few moments just breathing each other in. He thinks about Bonnie's question again, how his answer plays out before him, but this feels like neither the time nor place to make such a declaration.

 

He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing to spill years worth of secrets kept bottled up, and gives her shoulder a light squeeze before it all comes out.

 

Even when he was little, Stefan knew his family was different from most others. Their vagabond lifestyle, coupled with an odd juxtaposition of military discipline not withstanding, but that even some of his first memories are ones of uneasiness. He doesn't remember a time where mom and dad were happy. Not with each other, and certainly not with their two boys, born so far apart he had always wondered the circumstances that lead to his conception.

 

One thing Stefan did have was his brother. Damon always doing a fine job of sheltering him from from the misery of two people who didn't love each other, but for some reason, never split apart. One day, shortly after he turned ten, mom wasn't in the picture anymore. No reason was given, other than she had died under circumstances that were deemed classified by their father. A reason that soon became such a practiced excuse, for any emotion the General would rather compartmentalize than deal with outright.

 

For awhile, things were better, even if the ten year old version of himself felt so guilty for even thinking it. Dad kept himself busy with his duties, pretty much leaving Damon in charge of raising little Stefan, until he had enlisted himself at eighteen. (Partly to shut the old man up, and mainly to get out while he could.)

 

Then on the day Stefan turned fifteen, with Damon on leave to celebrate, their mother shows up at the front door as if they hadn't thought her dead. Shows up this twisted, wicked thing, thirsting for revenge on their father. Dad of course, hadn't been home, and whatever monster their mother had turned herself into, didn't seem to mind the idea that his sons blood would serve as payback just as well as his own.

 

He honestly doesn't remember much of what happened, some kind of post traumatic memory block dad was more than willing to let stay that way, other than waking up in the hospital having suffered massive blood loss. What he does know from the events of that day, is Damon offered himself as a sacrifice. She could have him, willingly, if she let Stefan go. He hasn't seen either of them since. Doesn't know of his brother is dead, or became what she was.

 

Caroline's hand clutches at his shirt during the tale, her empathy radiating in waves, and Stefan knows that if she were able to do anything about the circumstances of his life, she would.

 

“How are you not afraid of me?” she wonders aloud. “I don't understand it. After all of... that. I think you'd hate vampires more than anything.”

 

“I wasn't afraid of her,” he admits. “I think, I mean, I let her in. I invited her in, even though she'd been dead for years. I didn't even question it. It was my birthday, my mother was alive and I...”

 

“She tried to kill you.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

She's silent a moment.

 

“I'm sorry,” is whispered into his shirt. “That is so messed up, I can't even begin to rationalize how okay you seem to be with it.”

 

“Sometimes it's just a movie in my head,” he allows. “With so many scenes missing, it kind of feels like it happened to someone else, you know?”

 

Her fingers trace circles on him.

 

“Well adjusted Stefan,” she teases. “So cool and calm in the face of calamity.”

 

He kisses the top of her head.

 

“I'm in love with a vampire,” he shoots back. “How well adjusted can I be?”

 

She stills at his statement, and for a moment he wants to take them back. It's too soon. She's not ready.

 

“You love me?”

 

He doesn't hesitate with an answer.

 

“More than anyone before,” he assures. “Or anyone to come.”

 

She twists to face him, something in her eyes telling that she has not heard such words in a long, long time. Inching upward, her lips meets his in the whisper of a kiss, and he wants to let it stay at that. She's still weak, still recovering, but when her mouth parts to deepen it, resistance is a task far too difficult to follow through.

 

-

 

Late afternoon, they're still in bed, having not moved from the mornings activities. Stefan wonders when the Sheriff will return, and if his presence needs to be elsewhere. Also, he's curious as to how a vampire would come to be in a living situation with a parental figure.

 

“I'm seventeen,” Caroline answers. “I'll always be seventeen. It was a lot easier to be on my own a hundred years ago, but these days legal purposes mean I need a guardian. Besides, she's not really my aunt. It's just easier to call her that.”

 

“Then what is she?”

 

“A relative, though technically not even that. Her ex husband Bill is actually the one I share a bloodline with, but he blew town a few months before I came back.”

 

“And she knows? What you are?”

 

“It's founding family business to know such things,” she replies. “But I am my family's best kept secret.”

 

“Founding family?”

 

“Oh, right,” Caroline concedes. “You haven't been back here that long, and from what you say about your dad, he sure wouldn't tell you.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“This town was founded by five families,” she continues. “Fell, Forbes, Gilbert, Lockwood, and Salvatore.”

 

“Gilbert like-?”

 

“Elena and Katherine? Yup.”

 

“Lockwood as in Tyler?”

 

“Right again.”

 

“You're a Forbes.”

 

“Also, true.”

 

“And I'm...?”

 

“Guilty by association.”

 

“Wow. And they all know about, I mean-”

 

“Their parents do, I have no doubt about that. But initiation into the council is voluntary, and not allowed until all of them are eighteen.”

 

“What about Bonnie?” he asks. “You didn't say her families name.”

 

“You can blame that on bigoted southern culture,” Caroline fills in. “The Bennett's were just as important to the creation of this town as the other five ever were, but you can guess why they're left out.”

 

“She knows what you are.”

 

“She does.”

 

“How did she find out?”

 

“She's a witch.”

 

A witch, Stefan thinks. Said so matter of fact. Like that's just something people are.

 

“And you're a vampire.”

 

“Sharp as a tack, aren't you?”

 

He strokes the skin along her upper arm.

 

“Are you ever going to tell me what happened to you?”

 

Her sigh is telling, in that she would have evaded the question as long as she could.

 

“Werewolf drama,” she answers vaguely. “Not a big thing, really.”

 

“Those are real too?”

 

“Stefan sweetie,” she starts, looking up at him and reaching a hand to his cheek. “I want you to think about how much you want to know. How involved you're willing to be.”

 

He doesn't have to think about it.

 

“Tell me everything.”

 

-

 

Stefan skips school for the second time in a row, justifying it to himself as a mental health day. It's not like dad is going to be home to pick up any calls from the office about his absence, and he'd been signing his own excuse slips since fifth grade anyway.

 

Though the idea of the supernatural is one he finds easily acceptable, the magnitude of it transitioning from myth to fact, is still a lot to process. Also, he's curious to find more information on his lineage, something he'd never really felt an inclination to do. Even when the first day spent in this ridiculously huge house was in the library, he was more interested in the first editions that lined the shelves, rather than family history.

 

Now he pours over record books, mainly of the old timber business, and finds that Caroline wasn't exaggerating when telling him the Salvatores built this town. There's nothing more intriguing than nineteenth century business savvy, sadly, and he gives up looking for any secrets among the pages after a few hours.

 

The feeling that something his hidden within the walls is one he can't shake, and proceeds to spend the rest of the day nosing through room after room. Around three, the doorbell chimes, and he heads for the stairs cursing so much wasted effort for a big fat goose egg.

 

Matt is on the other side of the door, as is Elena, and Katherine too.

 

“Hey,” he says cautiously. “What's going on?”

 

“Told you he wasn't sick,” Katherine pipes up.

 

“All I said was that he could be,” Elena replies.

 

“Yeah, but you still brought him soup,” Katherine says, pointing at the paper bag in her sisters hand.

 

“I did,” Elena admits, holding it up. “I did bring you soup. So, um, here.”

 

Stefan takes the bag, confusion awash on his face, looking to Matt for some kind of clarity.

 

“You get used to it,” he says, giving Stefan a pat on the shoulder, and making his way inside.

 

Elena follows, but Katherine pauses in the doorway, reaching a hand up to examine his bruised face.

 

“Guess that's on me,” she offers instead of an apology. “But it does make you look even more ruggedly handsome.”

 

“Katherine,” he replies, hands pulling hers away. “You and me? It's not gonna happen.”

 

He turns and follows his friends, leaving her in the doorway, stunned.

 

-

 

Caroline drops by in the evening, and Stefan wonders why skipping school seems to have the opposite effect on his social life, not having had any visitors to his house the entire time he's lived here. She marches straight into the library, pours a drink from the bottles near the window, and Stefan opens his mouth to warn her he doesn't know how long they've actually been there.

 

“Looks like you're feeling better,” he says instead, noticing the much improved spring in her step.

 

“You'd be surprised,” she replies. “How a B positive attitude works wonders.”

 

It takes a second for the double entendre to register, and her eyebrows lift to his resulting smirk, moving down the steps and taking a seat next to her.

 

“Don't tell me you played hooky just to spend all day in your giant house by yourself,” she states, twirling a finger around.

 

“I spent it snooping actually.”

 

Her face conveys mock shock.

 

“Looking for anything in particular?”

 

“Family secrets.”

 

She fans herself.

 

“How scandalous.”

 

Stefan's laugh is hallow.

 

“If you consider my great, great grandfather fixing timber prices back in 1864 scandalous.”

 

“It was actually,” she replies, suddenly in all seriousness. “He built the town's first hospital just to save face.”

 

That gets his attention, as Caroline sips her bourbon.

 

“He threw a ball in this very house to celebrate its opening. He was so fond of those, always competing with the Lockwoods, he and George constantly trying to outdo each other. All us fair citizens reaping the glamorous benefits.”

 

“You were there?”

 

She looks away.

 

“Not for that one, no.”

 

“Why not?”

 

She takes another drink.

 

“Because I was dying in that hospital.”

 

Stefan's hand covers hers.

 

“You don't have to tell me.”

 

“Thrown from a horse,” she goes on as if he hadn't said anything. “I was such a good rider, too. Father was always so proud. My bed chamber, covered wall to wall in blue ribbons, but one day I get tossed like I'd never sat in a saddle. My insides crushed by my beloved appaloosa. Everyone I knew, dancing in this room, and my last breaths smell of blood and sawdust.”

 

“Caroline...”

 

“I wasn't ready,” comes out softer than the rest of the story. “I was seventeen, I had only left the confines of this backwater town just once, so I prayed. I prayed so hard for a miracle to come.”

 

She looks at him them, tears shimmering in her eyes, but they will not spill.

 

“And it did. Funny thing though, my miracle had a face, one I knew well. Alexia Branson, my best friend.”

 

He listens intently, taking note at how her voice changes talking about way back when, her words and manner of speaking that appear so old fashioned.

 

“She'd been a guest in our home for just a few months, but we were fast friends, growing to call each other sister. It pained her to watch me suffer. So much that she offered to take that suffering away. Of course I said yes. I said it without a second thought, so desperate to cling to my life, I didn't even blink at the sudden change of her face. Or that she gnashed her wrist open with teeth she should not have possessed, offering me the blood that spilled.”

 

He gives her hand a squeeze.

 

“I remember,” she laughs brokenly. “I remember her kissing my forehead when I was finished. Giving all assurances that I would be better come the morning. She couldn't have known it was too late for me, I was mere minutes from death when she appeared by my beside, the blood she gave never having a chance to heal. But it did change me. The next night I awoke in a dank room with a white sheet covering my face, surrounded by the others that had died, with a salacious hunger I had no idea how to control.”

 

Her thumb strokes gently across the back of his hand.

 

“When you become a vampire, it amplifies all that you are, so what do you think happened to the spoiled brat of a southern belle I was?”

 

Stefan doesn't have an answer.

 

“I ripped this town apart. I made it rain blood. I wanted revenge on all those who attended that ball. People I'd known my entire life, I felt had been dancing upon my grave. John Gilbert. Honoria Fell. I wanted to drain George Lockwood, given the chance. Your great, great grandfather. The other founding families. I would have killed them all. Only Lexi could stop me, and she did, but not before I took one last victim that haunts me to this day.”

 

She takes a breath.

 

“I bet you were named after him. It's too much of a coincidence not to be true. Stefan Salvatore, the sweetest boy a girl could know.”

 

Stefan looks startled at the revelation, yet another fact about his family he is unaware.

 

“The kind of person you could always speak to, one who never judged. His empathy was a gift. We had known each other all our lives. Grown up together. I think one day we might have even...”

 

She quickly wipes an escaped tear from her cheek.

 

“I was ravenous, those first few nights of being a vampire. I didn't care who I killed, as long as I'd fed, and Stefan had the misfortune of coming across me while taking a taste of his mother. I was no longer the girl he knew. The way he looked at me then, how he said my name, both as vile as the monster I'd become. It angered me, so much, and all I'd wanted was for him to stop. So I made him, that only way I knew how.”

 

Caroline pulls her hand from his.

 

“The thing about secrets, Stefan.” She warns. “Is that once you find them, they can never be put back.”

 

-

 

Stefan sits in his father's office, eyes scanning the walls, taking in all the military themed art. Battles dad, no doubt, wishes he could have participated in. Framed commendations. Certificates of valor. Various medals he'd earned mounted in small shadow boxes.

 

His knee shakes nervously, mind racing as to why dad had called him here, knowing that it couldn't be for something so petty as missing two days of school. A new deployment wasn't likely either. Not so soon, anyway. Dad's posts last at least a year, and they've only been in Mystic Falls two months. Also, Dad wouldn't tell him to come all the way to the base for that kind of news.

 

He hopes it's not some kind of recruitment thing. His eighteenth birthday is next year, and though they've never discussed it directly, Stefan has a feeling his father is aware that a soldier's life is not for him.

 

His knee won't stop shaking.

 

Whatever this is, has to be big.

 

The door opens, and Stefan stands at attention on instinct, old habits dying hard. Dad circles his desk, hat tucked neatly in his arm, and takes the time to gently hang it on a hook mounted to the wall. They share eye contact for a few awkward beats, and Stefan thinks the man is kind of proud that he will not sit without permission.

 

“Stefan,” he says in greeting. “Thank you for coming.”

 

It sounds so formal, which causes his anxiety to spike, the only time dad ever says thank you are the rare times they share a meal and asks to be passed the salt.

 

A nod of the older man's head, and Stefan finally retakes his seat.

 

“You're probably wondering why I called you here,” he begins, as he takes a seat as well.

 

“Y-yeah,” Stefan stutters. “I mean, yes sir.”

 

The corner of his father's mouth quirks the slightest bit, and now Stefan is really nervous as to what is going on.

 

“You're a good kid,” Dad continues. “You've been on your own most of your life, and it's been rough I know that, but I've never had to worry about you. You don't make trouble. You don't step out of line.”

 

“Have I stepped out of line?” he can't help but interrupt, then immediately regrets it off the stern look received.

 

“Like I was saying,” Dad goes on. “You don't make waves, so I leave you and your personal life well enough alone.”

 

It takes all of Stefan's will power to keep his knee from shaking.

 

“But I'm afraid something has been brought to my attention. Something I simply can't look the other way on.”

 

It can't be about missing school, he thinks desperately. His brain scrambling for something, anything, he'd done recently to be worthy of getting the third degree.

 

“Caroline Forbes,” Dad states.

 

Stefan has never thought her name could sound so ugly.

 

“I understand the two of you have become... acquainted?”

 

Be cool, Stefan thinks. Be calm. Be the new kid.

 

“She's my friend,” he replies.

 

“Son,” Dad emits in a low tone. “She's a little more than that.”

 

Stefan clears his throat.

 

“We-uh-are dating. I mean, she's my girlfriend.”

 

Things have been weird since her admission, that much is true, but it hasn't changed anything for him. He still feels the way he feels, and it appears, she does too.

 

Dad nods, this being knowledge he already possesses.

 

“Are you aware of what she is? What she's done?”

 

Give him nothing, Stefan begs his body. No reaction. Not a tick. Not a blink.

 

“Don't you mean _who_ she is? And what do you mean? What has she done?”

 

He knows, his mind screams. 1864. The founding families. How she decimated ours. He _knows_.

 

Dad leans back in his chair.

 

“I know we don't talk about your mother.”

 

Never, Stefan doesn't dare say. About how she died. About how she didn't. About what she became. About what she did.

 

“About what... happened. But I know you remember more than you admit. Which is fine, I won't pry. But we both know, she wasn't human anymore. Just like your little girlfriend isn't.”

 

Stefan's heart beats wildly in his chest, threatening to betray the practiced stoicism he exudes.

 

“Whatever she is to you, she isn't. That ends now. You don't see her anymore. You don't say a word. She'll be dealt with soon enough.”

 

His stomach drops at the implication.

  
“Dad...”

 

“Dismissed.”

 

“But dad-”

 

“Don't make me repeat myself.”

 

Stefan rises from the chair, exiting the office without another word, and once he feels far enough away reaches for his cell phone and calls Caroline.

 

“Hey,” he says off her greeting. “We have a problem.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

They're in Bonnie's living room, huddled in a circle, talking softly even though the house is empty. Stefan sits in his practiced calm, though the alarm bells in his mind haven't stopped ringing. Caroline however, is actually calm, this not being the first attempt on her undead life. (If she's realistic, probably not the last.) Bonnie sits between them, eyes darting back and forth, unsure how to offer comfort to either.

 

“Can you do a spell?” Stefan asks. “Some kind of memory wipe?”

 

“That won't work,” Caroline answers for her. “She'd have to get close to him. Physically. I'm guessing if your dad knows about me, he sure as hell knows about witches.”

 

Stefan shoots her a look, then turns his attention to Bonnie.

 

“She's right,” Bonnie agrees. “If he's involved with the founders council, and it's probably a safe bet he is, he'll know all about my family. I couldn't get anywhere near him.”

 

“So what?” Stefan tosses out. “We do nothing?”

 

Caroline and Bonnie share a glance.

 

“You don't know him. I mean, there's a reason he's a General. Once he sets out to do something, it takes other armies to stop him.”

 

“Of course not,” Caroline replies. “But like you said, he's career military, and has a plan already in place. If he'll stop at nothing, people are going to get hurt. That's the last thing I want. So maybe I should just...”

 

“No,” Stefan dismisses. “Don't even think it.”

 

“He's your dad, Stefan.”

 

“Yeah, he's father of the year. Plotting to kill my girlfriend. Thinking I'd just stand by and let it happen.”

 

“I've done terrible things.”

 

“I don't care.”

 

“Stefan-”

 

“I don't care,” he repeats. “Maybe there's something wrong with me, I don't know. You tell me you're a vampire. Okay. You tell me you've killed. That you enjoyed it. Whatever. You tell me you loved someone with my name, and killed him too. By all logic, it should send me running away screaming, but you know what? It hasn't. I'm still here. I'm telling you, I don't care what you were, what you've done. Because I see you now. Maybe I'm selfish. Maybe I just love you too much and can't imagine ever letting you go. But I will not sit here, and let you think giving yourself up to my dad because people might get hurt, is the right choice.”

 

Neither girl knows what to say.

 

“Whoa,” Bonnie utters, breaking the momentary silence.

 

Caroline looks to her friend.

 

“Hit the jackpot, didn't I?” she asks.

 

“Yeah, you did.”

 

Stefan blushes and looks away.

 

“So,” Bonnie continues. “Now that we've agreed Caroline isn't going to die, how do we go about making sure it doesn't happen? We don't even have an idea when or where the General would come after you.”

 

“Yes we do,” Caroline offers.

 

Stefan and Bonnie look at her curiously.

 

“The founders ball.”

 

“Isn't that a little public?” Bonnie inquires.

 

“It's exactly that,” Caroline confirms. “It would make a big statement. That the founder's council isn't just a keep of the town's secrets, but that they're a force to be dealt with.”

 

“You sound awfully sure,” Stefan interjects.

 

Caroline meets his eyes.

 

“To kill me in some grand spectacle,” she puts out. “Is a big message to all the supernatural things that migrate here.”

 

“What message is that?” Bonnie asks.

 

“That this town belongs to them.”

 

-

 

Their eyes meet in the reflection of the vanity.

 

For a moment he forgets to breathe, stunned at how drop dead gorgeous she is, the emerald dress and golden locks curled to perfection. He leans down, as if he can't help himself, to press a lingering kiss on her neck. It doesn't help the situation, when her eyes flutter closed, and a soft sigh escapes her lips.

 

How he wants to ruffle that dress, muss up her hair.

 

“Stefan,” comes out a whisper, her voice causing goosebumps to dot along his skin. “We can't.”

 

She's right. Of course she is.

 

He pulls back slowly, letting the contact last as long as it can, and keeps his hand on her shoulder. Her hand moves to cover his, giving him a small smile in the mirror.

 

“I take it you approve?” She asks, making a motion with her free hand.

 

“I have no words,” he replies. “They would hardly do you justice.”

 

The smile grows bigger.

 

“Aren't you a charmer?”

 

For a moment they just take each other in.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks.

 

His thumb makes circles on her skin.

 

“No,” he answers honestly. “But I'm going to.”

 

The razor gleams under the vanity lights, twisting just so, as she brings it to her skin.

 

“If you get hurt,” she begins. “This will heal you.”

 

Stefan flinches when silver slices into porcelain, letting red bleed out, and takes her offered wrist lifting it to his mouth.

 

“If you die,” she says softly. “You'll be like me.”

 

-

 

The mansion is lavishly decorated, the Lockwoods sparing no expense as always, or so Caroline whispers into his ear. The crowd is large and boisterous, all the who's who of small town Virgina, collected into a single setting. Stefan's eyes are everywhere, scanning for imminent threats, or easy exits. He hates being on edge like this. That he can't even enjoy such a glamorous party, with Caroline looking like a movie star, because his dad feels the need to make a statement.

 

He catches sight of Matt and Elena, already on the dance floor, twirling around like two teenagers without a care in the world. Tyler, oddly, is nowhere to be seen despite this being his house. Katherine however, he spots off in a corner, dress identical to the one her sister wears save for color. She does not look like she hasn't a care in the world, but pouty and somber.

 

“Hey,” Stefan asks, nodding at the corner. “What's the deal with you and Katherine?”

 

She follows his gaze to the girl in question.

 

“When I came back, she was the first person to welcome me, desperate for a new face in a life she felt was nothing but a status quo. So we became friends, but I could tell right away she was the kind of girl who's a friend to your face but not when you turned your head. Then the whole Tyler thing happened.”

 

“Wait,” Stefan interrupts. “You and Tyler?”

 

“Ew, no. But Katherine didn't know I wasn't interested. So she made a big show of trying to land him, after that I was kind of done pretending we were actually friends. I don't hate her or anything, she surprisingly owns being a two faced bitch, but I retreated a bit from that group. If you hadn't noticed, they pretty much stick together no matter what.”

 

“But you're friends with Bonnie.”

 

Caroline grins.

 

“She and I are on the same wavelength when it comes to Katherine.”

 

-

 

An hour into the party, and nothing happens. No big reveal of the town's dirty little secrets. No showdown to end Caroline's supernatural presence in it. Stefan hasn't left her side, comically so, going as far as waiting outside the ladies room when she had gone to fix her hair.

 

His dad has yet to make an appearance, and by the look of things, the founder's council doesn't look to have anything planned as far as public execution. The Gilberts, Lockwoods, Fells, Forbes, are simply dressed to the nines and enjoying the ambiance.

 

Stefan doesn't want to let his guard down, has no intention of doing so, but the more this party drags on he can't help but think Caroline was wrong in her assumption. They've circled the crowd more than a dozen times, and have been given no inclination that anything wasn't on the up and up. Several run ins with Bonnie doing the same, also comes up with nothing.

 

“Dance with me,” Caroline says after completion of circle thirteen.

 

Stefan balks, halting his step so abruptly he nearly trips over his own feet.

 

“You know,” he deflects, hand idly scratching the back of his head. “I can't believe this hasn't come up before, but uh, I don't really dance.”

 

“That's funny,” Caroline replies, pulling on his arm. “It sounds like you think you have a choice in the matter.”

 

She leads him to the floor, smirking to herself at how he scuffles in step behind her, and once there twirls him into an embrace.

 

“Oh my,” he laughs. “I feel like the belle of the ball.”

 

“Because you are,” she assures, leaning in to press her cheek against his.

 

They're quiet a moment, simply enjoying each others company.

 

“Should we be doing this?” He asks. “I mean, at any moment they could-”

 

“I'm starting to think I was wrong,” she interrupts. “Look at them,” she continues, head casually pointing out all the elder statesman of the families. “Do they really look poised to launch an attack on anything, let alone me?”

 

“No,” Stefan concedes. “But you said-”

 

“I think I assumed nothing changed about this place,” Caroline goes on. “Because the first time I left, it was an exile, me and Lexi running with torches and pitchforks at our backs. It happened again in the thirties, and one more time in the fifties. But I never learned my lesson. I always came home.”

 

Stefan kisses her cheek.

 

“I feel ridiculous,” she admits. “Your dad isn't even here.”

 

Stefan freezes at her words.

 

“Yes he is.”

 

Caroline looks around.

 

“Where?”

 

“He just walked in. Easy to spot a dress uniform among all these penguin suits.”

 

They spin so Caroline can see.

 

“He's alone?”

 

“Looks that way.”

 

“Stefan,” she starts, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “He's looking right at us.”

 

He turns back to see this father's grim glare, and any other day Stefan would be terrified about the punishment that stern face would come up with for such defiance, had he not already planned never to go back living with the man no matter the result of the night.

 

“We should go,” he says pulling her hand. “He won't make a scene, but I can't stand him looking at us like that.”

 

-

 

They're a good twenty feet away from her car, when gunshots ring, a three shot burst straight into her abdomen. Caroline cries out, clutching her midsection, before falling backward to the ground. Your pretty, pretty dress, Stefan thinks helpless to catch her.

 

“I'm disappointed in you son,” Dad's voice calls, as the man himself steps around the car.

 

Stefan kneels next to Caroline, taking her hand is his, jaw clenching as she twists and writhes in pain.

 

“Wooden bullets,” she manages to say through a wince.

 

“Step away from that thing,” Dad orders with a wave of his gun. “And let me finish this.”

 

“And what is this exactly?” Stefan asks in defiance. “You by yourself? No founder's council to back you up?”

 

“Those sycophants?” he replies with a laugh. “As if that group would know what to do with a monster if they ever came across one. They're librarians, Stefan. Keepers of secrets and nothing more.”

 

Stefan doesn't believe it.

 

“Then no seal team to cover your flank?”

 

Dad actually looks surprised.

 

“You think I'd waste government resources like that?”

 

“I don't know what you'd do,” Stefan answers. “I don't know why you care about what she is, or what she's done. Have you crossed paths before? Is this some kind of revenge?”

 

“Revenge?” Dad echoes. “No, son. This is vendetta.”

 

Caroline gasps in pain, squeezing Stefan's hand.

 

“For what?” he cries exasperated.

 

“For killing one of our own,” Dad replies. “Or did she never tell you?”

 

Stefan looks down to her, face still held in a grimace.

 

“She told me,” he admits.

 

“And you still continued to date her?” Dad asks in disgust. “Love her?”

 

“It was a hundred and fifty years ago!” Stefan shouts.

 

“That's right,” Dad agrees. “And every generation since has named their second son Stefan in honor of his memory. Time does not heal all wounds, some continue to fester. Especially if that wound is immortal. Now, step away from the girl.”

 

“No,” Stefan refuses. “I won't let you hurt her.”

 

Dad aims the gun square at his chest.

 

“How many has she hurt, son? How many killed? It's what she does. It's what she is. Pretty face or no, sooner or later the blood she spills will be yours.”

 

“What happens with your vendetta if you kill me?” Stefan asks. “How many years will the Salvatore's hold a grudge against you?”

 

The gun fires an answer, pain ripping into Stefan's leg, causing him to fall back next to Caroline on the ground.

 

“Kill you?” Dad asks. “I would never. But clearly a lesson needs to be taught.”

 

The gun in hand points straight at Caroline's heart.

 

“Don't,” Stefan grunts through the pain. “Dad please...”

 

“It's for the best,” Dad says. “Maybe one day you'll realize that.”

 

Stefan catches movement in the corner of his eye, quick and fleeting, then suddenly Bonnie is behind the man in uniform silent as a ghost.

 

She announces her presence with shouts in Latin, both of her hands appearing on the side of dad's head, the man's eyes quickly rolling backward.

 

It's over in seconds, the mighty general hitting the ground with a thump, leaving Bonnie standing there with arms still outstretched and breathing heavily.

 

Stefan falls to his back, relieved laughter spilling out of him, despite the pain still coursing from his bullet wound.

 

“Bonnie Bennett you're my hero,” he announces to the sky.

 

She laughs brokenly in reply, moving to kneel between them.

 

“Are guys gonna be okay?” she asks.

 

“I think so,” Stefan offers, already feeling Caroline's blood inside him begin to mend damaged tissue. “Caroline?”

 

“Just peachy,” she replies, voice still strained. “I need blood though. This freaking hurts like a mother.”

 

Stefan's hand find hers.

 

“Still love me?” she asks.

 

He lifts it to his mouth, and answers with a kiss.

 

-

 

They're in Chicago, living in an apartment Caroline has kept since prohibition, until Stefan finishes his last year of high school. Then it's off to Europe. London, Paris, Barcelona, and anywhere in between they feel like swinging through. After that, a trek through Asia. India, Cambodia, China, and Japan. Perhaps they'll swing down to the Philippines once they've accomplished that, Australia, then New Zealand. One day returning to this apartment. One day making him hers forever.

 

Sometimes, she catches him staring off at nothing, and she'll ask if he's thinking about his father. The life before her, and all the drama that comes with being a vampire.

 

“Do you miss him?”

 

“No,” he answers.

 

It's the truth.

 

He doesn't miss that life. The isolation. The constant state of flux. Always being the new kid, and never getting to be Stefan. But he will still think of his father, in a sense that that without him, Stefan would not be here. But the man was never kind. Not cruel, but always distant, and consistently cold. How, he wonders, could anyone miss such a relationship?

 

His father certainly doesn't miss him. Bonnie took care of that. General Giuseppe Salvatore has no memories of being a father at all. Not to him, not to Damon, and Stefan can't help but think it for the best. With his attitude and actions, he can never truly fathom the man enjoying the idea of fatherhood in the first place.

 

Day by day, he thinks of dad less and less. He lives his life. With Caroline by his side, it's the happiest he's ever been. He goes to school, studies as hard as he always has, and graduates with honors. She's so proud, sending photo after photo to all their friends back in Mystic Falls, kissing him breathless when he walks off the stage with diploma in hand.

 

“I love you,” she declares, playing with the tassel on his cap.

 

He kisses her again.

 

“I love you, too.”

 

-

 

Three months into their trip they sit in a hotel bar in Barcelona, sipping Agua de Valenica's and discussing whether they want to hit Italy from land or sea, when Stefan's eyes suddenly narrow. His head twists to the entrance of the bar, catching sight of a familiar face.

 

“What is it?” Caroline asks at the rapid shift in demeanor.

 

He drops off his stool, walking toward the door, but careful to reach a hand back for her. She takes it and follows, high heels clicking along the marble floor, out into the lobby. Stefan doesn't look back to her, going toward the elevators, as his steps increase in speed. All she can see of the person they seem to be following is a black leather jacket.

 

“Damon!” Stefan shouts suddenly.

 

The man in the jacket stops, but doesn't turn around.

 

“Is that?” Stefan starts, voice hitching slightly. “Is that you?”

 

The man in the jacket mutters something, low enough that Stefan can't hear, but Caroline does.

 

_Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world..._

 

He turns around, and Stefan can't help but squeeze Caroline's hand.

 

“Hey little brother,” Damon greets with a cheshire grin. “Miss me?”

 


End file.
